Nine Clocks a' Tickin'
by Caroline Silas
Summary: When the youngest Dixon brother is knocked unconscious and lying in the woods after trying to climb a rocky hill and make his way back to camp, an extraordinarily mysterious girl finds him and gets the shock of her life. Starts during 'Chupacbra', Daryl/OC
1. 1 - First Heartbeat

**A/N: This is my first TWD fanfiction and first time publishing a fanfiction to this website. I'm generally very nervous about allowing people to read my work, but I'm facing my fear by doing it. I suppose this chapter is a little boring but it gets a little more interesting in the next chapter. If you enjoyed it - please review, it would be great to know if publishing this was worth it. **

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For being a forest where there was a good chance of turning around and finding a flesh-eating monster trying to kill you and eat you, it was awfully quiet. Dangerously quiet to be honest. Nothing but the innocent sounds of nature and the putting of a black Frisian horses hooves trotting slowly on the forest floor.

No walkers in sight, just trees, bushes, weeds, leaves on the ground, beautiful and fresh nature. It was almost… peaceful…

…Until the alive and healthy human riding the horse looked down, seeing a path of horseshoe prints that she knew in fact didn't belong to her own. These days you had to be carefully curious in order to survive, but that trait came naturally and she was forced to follow them.

They led to one of the hillsides that held a wide creek between it. Atop of the very high rock, she realized the footprints had changed their pattern a bit. It appears that the horse that had left them was first trotting, then paused, kicked back on his hind legs and ran away leaving deeper prints from stomping.

But as far as the owner of the Frisian knew, there wasn't another soul residing anywhere within 40 miles, give or take. Could it just be a passerby? She dismounted quickly to further inspect, every fiber of her being hoping that someone else was near, someone who was breathing and alive.

And as her gray eyes wandered over the ravine, they stopped and lingered over what could have perhaps been the answer to her prayers.

Faster than she ever had before, she tied a rope to connect her horse to a tree, making the knot as strong as her hands would let her in such a hurry. Without skill, the human skidded and slid down the steep ridge, nearly losing balance once she reached the bottom.

Her black boots splashed a bit in the creek before she could step on the large branch that crossed over to the other side of the flowing, muddy pool of water. Her heart raced, feeling like it could burst through her chest any moment now as she approached him.

_He couldn't be a walker_, she thought. _There's no way. His flesh is peach, his face doesn't look decayed. _But it worried her that he was lying in the mud and appeared to be unconscious. That didn't mean she wouldn't make sure, if he really was… _alive_… she felt like she herself could faint.

Retrieving her 14' machete from the leather sleeve on her belt, she armed herself while taking a few quiet steps toward the man on the ground. She couldn't tell how long he had been there, or why he was there, but she wanted to help him. If he _was_ alive, it wouldn't be alright to just leave him there.

With extra caution, she knelt beside him with a hand still gripping the machete. She could see the slight rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed and it took everything in her not to cry out of joy. Her cheeks brightened to a red as she bore the happiest smile she'd worn since the weekend before the infectious outbreak of corpses.

But it still wasn't promised that he was only sleeping, taking a nap on the earth's floor. After pulling on a pair of thin leather gloves, her skilled hand gradually reached out till her fingers softly brushed his dirt smudged cheek.

No movement.

"Hey… Sir, hello… Wake up?" She whispered, raising her voice a little more with every syllable that rolled off her tongue.

The young woman inched closer, her knees now knelt right beside him and only an inch away from brushing against his rib cage - that happened to have an arrow lodged against it.

His wounds made her want to wince. His wrist was bent out of shape and judging by the direction in which his left foot was pointed, she figured he had a few breaks or sprains at the least.

Her hands wandered across his forehead until she stopped and lifted them to examine the bloody gash on the side of his head, right next to his hairline. Then her head turned to the right, looking up at the inclination a few feet away from her and the blacked out body in front of her. The dirt and leaves were scattered, leaving a slight trail and evidence that someone had tried to climb the narrow steep.

Then her eyes directed back to the man lying in front of her. Before making a decision, she poked at him a bit more, to make sure he wasn't just asleep. He wouldn't wake up even when she did a AVPU procedure. Not alert, not talking and not responding to pain. Unconscious he was.

Still no movement.

But he was alive. When she heedfully unbuttoned the small buttons on his filthy, dingy red shirt and pulled back the damp fabric, revealing his equally unclean chest, her mind could barely comprehend what she had felt under her hand.

There it was. The rhythmic and soft thumping of the inactive but living body's heart.

The feeling, the feeling of assurance that she wasn't the only human being within 50 miles that had organs and healthy skin, a functioning brain and working lungs, the feeling of knowing you're not alone anymore.

She found herself fidgeting, fighting the urge to scream and cry, jump and tackle the man in front of her with new found glee.

It was unbelievable. But when she gingerly placed her ear to the middle of his chest, it was clear as day. The beautiful beating of the blood pumping underneath his flesh. To say it was music to her ears would be an understatement. The feeling of very slight movement from the vital organ cradled the side of her head while she stood still and concentrated on the amazing, flawless sound of this stranger's heart.

But something interrupted her blissful affair.

A rustling not from the midnight horse.

Rapidly, she lifted her head up, standing to her feet and grabbing her machete with both hands.

10 feet behind her stood an old woman. A groaning, moaning, damaged and dead old woman. Even before this being had been infected, she must have aged quite a long time. With a missing arm and a huge hole where her hip should have been, she didn't put up much of a fight. Seemingly just wanting to find some "food", the actually lively woman supposed, she wasn't going to get it with two left feet that she tripped over each time she took a small step forward.

These ones were always the hardest. The ones that look somewhat innocent, the ones that you wish you could help and resurrect, heal. Contaminated roamers like this one weren't all that easy to kill. Not because killing the undead happened to be a difficult task, but because the quiet, shameful ones make you forget that they're dangerous.

As the active and breathing being walked closer to the opposite, going the same pace until they eventually met in the middle. She eyed the dead woman as they stood a foot away from each other. The balding, blistering creature was still for a moment, her mouth drooping open, eyes facing the machete.

But before the walker could be provoked, the animated human sliced the top half of it's head off, causing the corpse to fall to the ground with a thud. It felt weird to end something that you wished so badly to save. She knew she had to though even if it wasn't attacking her. Better to get the job done before it got any harder.

After doing a 360 eyeshot check to make sure there weren't anymore following the last one, her attention directed back to the other human, the one on the ground.

Obviously she couldn't leave him there. Not when she knew he had a chance at stay alive. She didn't want to leave him anyway. Not after he had just given her all the hope she needed to continue on in the world, doing her best to keep her head up and survive.

It started with a wrap to the head. Some gauze circled around his head wound after she cleaned up the partially dried blood around it. Then a stronger wrap to secure his wrist and keep it from twisting farther beyond repair. A padded wrap went around his ankle after she struggled to get his boot off, then of course she had to put it back on. As for the arrow in his side, she had to roll him over a little to pull it out, making her wince once again.

When she had patched and bandaged him up as best as she could, being out here and away from home, she realized that she had forgotten one important detail of taking this stranger back to where she resided.

How would she actually get him there?

He looked to be about 150 pounds or so, not extremely heavy but definitely not light at all. Her only answer was to pick him up and set him on the horse in a way that she could also ride and direct the steed.

And that's what she did.

After guiding the horse to stand beside the end of the branch that serviced as a bridge, she managed - after 3 tries – to pick the unconscious man up as well as she could, she laboriously carried him to the end of the branch. She could have sworn she'd drop him on accident at least once, but to her surprise he made it all the way to the horses back with no falls.

She couldn't lift him high up at all so luckily there was a pile of sturdy stones by where she positioned the horse for her to stand on while placing his body on the back of the saddle.

Climbing atop the horse without knocking him off of it at the same time was truly the hardest part though.

After mounting her Frisian she quickly tied a rope around them, securing his torso to hers and his head to the back of her neck. Once she was sure he wouldn't fall off while the horse took them back to her home, she gently nudged the horse to walk along the side next to the bottom of the incline.

The black animal trotted out of the ravine and further into the forest while the girl's mind turned in thought and question.

_Who is he?_


	2. 2 - Mr Wipeout

**A/N: I'm glad I decided to submit it. Thanks to the people who followed and thanks to the people who read it! This chapter in my opinion will definitely not be my favorite. It's a bit rocky... But the chapters to come will hopefully be a bit more smooth. Review and let me know what you think so far! **

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Slowly, it felt as if the gears and sprockets of his brain were starting to turn again.

With every passing minute, he regained another portion of his senses. With his eyes still shut tight, blackness was all he could see. But it was coming back. Everything was. Every memory he ever had, every thought, every bit of information and every detail he knew - progressively came back.

It played like a slideshow, a quick slideshow. In his mind he watched as a very young version of him with scabbed knees pedaled a rusty blue bike. The almost 5 year old kid rode up a small mount in the road then slammed the brakes when he saw his own grungy and paint-chipped house in the mountains of North Georgia with smoke bleeding from the roof and flames coming through the enclosure.

A few years had passed and a still young version of the partially unconscious man was now running up the stairs of a different house before dashing into his room and slamming the door shut. He could hear the sound of an angry man shouting, threatening, swearing before the man busted the door open with a glass bottle and grabbed him, punching and kicking him until he was left on the cold floor with a bloody nose and tear stained cheeks.

More memories passed. More thoughts entered his head. _I'm so close to finding Sophia. I know she's out there somewhere. _More questions made the clockwork in his mind continue to turn. _Is Merle really dead?_

_We're at Hershel's farm now, not on the highway. I dropped my crossbow after falling down the hill again and I found Sophia's doll. _When the last thought crossed his mind, he now knew what happened.

Well at least _part _of what happened.

He could feel a slight breeze blowing his face and someone holding his hand as well as messing with some kind of fabric around his skin. His ears heard the tune of a very quiet violin that may or may not have been in the same room as him. And last of all, he could feel the warmth of bed sheets and pillows underneath and around him.

If it weren't for his 5th sense being delayed, he would have thought that when he slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times before the blur left them, he would have seen treetops and a blue sky.

But instead he saw a beige ceiling with a fan turning at a slow pace and a dim light under it.

It took him a moment to add it all together. He obviously wasn't at the same place where he took a second fall. He was inside. And there was another human sitting very close to him.

"…Look at that… Mr. Wipeout woke up earlier than I expected he would."

Her voice was hushed and high pitched yet not shrill or annoying. She didn't have a southern accent at all and every word was crystal clear, no stuttering or stammering.

"…What…?" He mumbled almost inaudibly, finally turning his head to see who was still touching his left palm.

"Have a nice slumber?" She smiled down at him from her place sitting beside him on the corner of the bed.

"Wha… where am I? …T' hell are you?" Daryl blinked again a few times, his heart racing from recently waking up from a coma. His words were somewhat unclear

"Well… You can call me Nine. You're in my spare bedroom." She let her feminine hands carefully place his strong and newly wrapped hand and wrist beside him on the bed.

Not yet coming to terms with being in a stranger's house, he asked a few unnecessary questions before fully realizing that he shouldn't be here. He should be back at the edge of the creek, looking for Sophia.

"That's a number. Why's your name a number?"

"I didn't say it's my name. I said you can call me that. Now let me update you a bit, hmm?" The young woman kept a smirk across her thin red lips, keeping her gray eyes on him. Daryl gave a minor nod before she continued. "I don't know the full story, in fact I don't even know your name besides the fact that the word _Dixon _is scraped onto the crossbow I found laying right next to you on the ground in the woods, but I do know that you have a sprained ankle, a broken wrist and a little ripped muscle tissue on the outside of your left rib cage."

He couldn't think of what to respond with. But at least he knew why his side and arm hurt.

Daryl stared at her for a few minutes, and she to him. She had to have been one of the weirdest girls he had ever seen. With eyes so light, you could mistake her for a zombie, hair pulled into pigtails that looked dark green for some reason and a black choker around her neck with a small cross pendant attached to it, she certainly was unusual. And why the hell would she tell him to call her "Nine" anyway?

"The name's Daryl Dixon." He finally muttered with a look of aggravation on his face.

"It's nice to properly meet you, Daryl. I'd shake your hand, but I think that would cause you too much pain at the moment." It seemed like her permanent smirk - or more like twisted smile – was there even when she wasn't purposely presenting it.

"Where's Rick and all the others?" He wanted so badly to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Lying on some random girl's bed in a house he had no idea was located at.

"Pardon me? Who is Rick?" The thought of another living human made her perk up, eyes brighter with more curiosity.

"What? Is he not around here? What about Glenn? Carol?" Getting impatient, he used his "good" arm to try and sit up on the bed. But when he did that, a shock of sharp pain shot through his chest before looking down to see that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Come to mention it, he wasn't wearing actual pants either. Just the same underwear he had on the last time he left camp.

Nine rushed to help him, trying to place her hand on his head and right shoulder but he jerked away and got another bolt of irritating stinging under his heart, causing him to yelp and eventually return to his previous position.

Now standing, the girl gave him a weird look. "I told you, ripped muscle tissue!"

He looked back up at her with a face that a pissed off 5 year old would make if you told him 'no'.

"I get it if you're not a touchy feely guy or if you don't like talking. I mean, whatever, that's your problem, not mine. But you're kind of stuck here until you're able to move around on your own without pain that might as well kill you in a time like this."

"I'll tell you what's not your damn problem! Me!" Frustrated Daryl wasn't a fun thing and it wasn't a thing that anyone in his group enjoyed dealing with.

Instead of saying anything else or continuing to argue with him, she simply stood there and looked at him. No emotion on her face. No expression.

"The hell you lookin' at?!" The raise of his voice was starting to make his head ache, but Dixon was nearly famous for being a stubborn man.

Nine walked closer to him again as he heard the sound of her boots hitting the floor a few times until she was practically leaning over the bed to look him dead in the eye.

"You are the only other person in the room. Who do you think I'm looking at? I don't know you, you are a stranger. I found you unconscious in a place where, had I found you any later, you would be dead right now. I don't know your life story, I don't know the people you love or the people that love you, the friends you have, I don't know how you managed to stay alive this long when there's dead people trying to attack anything that has a beating heart, every second of every day. But I do know that all of that wouldn't matter if you weren't here right now. You know why? Because all you would be is a walking skeleton with rotting flesh and your only reason for existence being your desire to murder and consume the last human beings on earth. You don't have to stay here; you don't have to listen to what I say. I'm not your mother. I'm just a person who finally found someone else that isn't decaying and I helped him because even though I didn't know a thing about him, I _cared_."

Slowly she leaned back, giving him one last glance before turning around and exiting the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.


	3. 3 - Walker?

**A/N: Finally published this chapter! I think this fic is finally moving at an exciting pace. It's a cliffhanger chapter though, oops! And as you already know, this story isn't going to completely follow the correct Walking Dead timeline, but I will try to keep it on the same track along with added or subtracted twists and details.  
****Here we get a little more insight on Nine, but I wish I could have added more without making the chapter all about her. I also added names to the chapters.  
****I'm seriously thinking about posting some of my Walking Dead art on my deviantArt account, along with some sketches of my character. If I do, I'll announce it in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone who's reading!****  
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With his hat blocking his eyes from being blinded by the Georgia sun, the former pizza delivery boy sat in a lawn chair atop the RV, keeping his eyes in the direction of the forest that had proven on multiple times to be very dangerous.

Like every other living soul on earth, Glenn had a lot on his mind.

_If they had any idea that I know this stuff and I haven't told them, they'd throw me in the barn and feed me to the walkers. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But they won't be happy that I kept it a secret. _

And then there was Lori. He knew she was pregnant, but she continued to act as if everything was normal, refusing to tell Rick or let someone help her and get her the things she needed to have a healthy pregnancy.

_This group isn't going to make much longer it if I don't tell someone... _

Disturbing his thoughts, he heard the raised voice of a young boy behind him.

"Glenn!"

The older male put down his binoculars, stood up and turned around to face the kid below him.

"Hey! What's up?" Trying to play it cool, he threw his hands in his pockets and gave the child wearing his dads sheriff hat a friendly and nervous smile.

"Can I help watch the camp with you?"

Knowing that Carl's one desire right now was to protect the group – following in his father's footsteps – and find Sophia, Glenn didn't mind a little assistance, not to mention that having someone to talk to might take his mind off of the haunting thoughts.

"Yeah sure. Get up here! But be careful."

The younger boy hurriedly jogged to the end of the camper RV and climbed up the ladder as quick as he could. After sitting down in the smaller folding chair next to Glenn, he pulled off his hat for a moment to ruffle his hair and wipe the sweat from his forehead then returned it to block the sun from his eyes.

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah." Carl smiled faintly, scanning the front of the woods, feeling proud to be able to help. "Can I have a turn with the binoculars?"

"Sure. Let me know if you find anything." Glenn handed the sight tool to him, holding back a yawn. Keeping watch was the easiest thing to do during the day, better than making runs, cooking, washing clothes or joining a search party – not that he had a problem with doing any of those things – but it tended to be an activity that required little brain power and that's where Glenn was stuck.

Sure, you have to actually watch and make sure there isn't anything dangerous lurking in the outskirts of the woods. But unless it was a day where you happened to need some relaxation time, it really made you think about nearly anything and everything.

Once again a noise disturbed his thoughts when the kid sitting next to him dropped the binoculars on the surface of the RV roof.

"It's her! It's her, it's Sophia!"

Before Carl almost tripped and fell off of the RV, an unsure Glenn grabbed his arm and quickly picked up the field glasses and took a look for himself.

"Carl, that looks more like a walker!" He picked up the gun that rested next to his chair and ran for the ladder. "Come on!"

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Silence broke as the familiar sound of quiet violin music entered the room, along with the opening of a door.

He turned his head to the left, watching her as she carefully carried a small tray over to the bed and set it down on the side table.

Nine stood up straight, folding her hands in front of her and moving her glance back and forth from the floor to his face.

"I don't know if you're hungry or not… But you should eat. It'll help speed up the healing process if your body has energy." She kept her voice at above a whisper, knowing that since it had only been 5 hours since their argument, he might still be easy to provoke.

"Thank you." He mumbled, eyes darting around to look anywhere but at her.

Deep down, he knew he had behaved wrongly. Just because he wasn't one to apologize often, doesn't mean he thought he never made mistakes.

The girl turned and walked back, standing in the doorway with her hand on the knob.

After clearing his throat quickly, he finally looked at her. "I.. Um, can't sit up."

He sure had a weird way of asking for help.

Her shoulders perked up and she turned back around, taking slow steps back to where he was still lying on the bed.

"Yes you can, just use the pillow to support your back and use your uninjured leg and arm to prop yourself up against the headboard."

Daryl did as told with a bit of struggle but managed to find a somewhat comfortable sitting position.

"You know… You don't have to stay here after you're healed. After you can walk again, you're free to leave. Technically you can go _now_, but I think we both know that would practically be suicide."

He nodded at her before his eyes directed to the food a few feet away from him.

Knowing he couldn't reach it with his wounded wrist, she handed the plate to him and rested it in his lap.

A turkey sandwich with nothing but bread and meat. Yet it may have been the nicest meal he had received in months.

"Couldn't really put anything on it that wasn't frozen before… Living off of cans, non perishables and whatever's in the freezer." She sighed and smiled a little, enjoying his company even though he didn't say much or look at her often.

After he finished about half of the sandwich, he looked up at her and gave her a small appreciative smile.

"So… You never answered my question." Nine took a seat on the edge of the bed as she did the last time they conversed.

"What question?"

Keeping eye contact for more than a few seconds, she noticed the color of his eyes. Pale blue and kept hidden more often than not. "Who is Rick? And Glenn, and Carol?"

Daryl almost forgot about that, asking where the others in the group were, thinking they were in this lady's house as well. "Others in my group."

"You have a group?" She grinned, but didn't get her hopes up, remembering that they were miles away from possibly ever finding anyone else.

"Yeah, bout 9 other people."

"Where do you all stay? There's no way they could be closer than 35 miles from us. I scope these woods out 4 times a week and I've never found anyone else besides you."

"A man named Hershel's farm. We camp outside of his house, he's got fields surrounding it so it's safe from walkers."

"Walkers?"

He gave her an odd look, hoping to God she knew about the monstrous pests destroying the world. "The dead people… Bastards that try to rip apart our necks?"

"Oh! You mean the corpses." She nodded.

"Corpses… Yeah. Them sons of bitches don't make it to the farm, n' when they do, we kill em' before they get too close." Using his able hand, he scratched his neck a bit, truly wondering what was going on at Hershel's farmstead.

"Right. Now, you said Hershel has a house? What other resources do you people have?" Ah, finally. A useful and decent conversation with the man. What he said sounded promising, and there wasn't anything more she could possibly want then to meet more people and become apart of another group.

"Water, sometimes food, he's got a few horses. An' the house has electricity. The old man wants to kick our asses out soon, doesn't realize the hell outside of his home." He started again on his sandwich while still paying attention to her.

"Hmmm…"

Nine thought to herself. There were so many unanswered questions, so many things she wanted to know. But she had a strong feeling that since he didn't seem like much of a talker, he wouldn't be inclined to tell her all the information that she ached for.

"I'd love to meet your group. I was with a group once, myself. Spent a month with them, became a family in a weird way. We had a few teenagers, a young girl, an army solider and a couple other misfits that somehow found us. Found shelter in the tallest building in Cincinnati, Ohio."

Daryl was a bit impressed if this girls words were true. He had a few questions himself, but after finishing his dinner, all he really wanted to do was take another long nap in a comfortable bed for a change, instead of the usual old and dirty sleeping bag in a tent.

"Not sure how Rick'll react, neither Hershel. They'll show you appreciation for taking me in, but after I'm gone, they'll move on as if nothin' happened." The crippled man managed to turn over a bit and place the empty plate on the table beside him without a ripple of pain threatening to crack his bones even more.

"Understandable. Can't trust many people anymore, which is ironic since what the world needs the most right now is trust between the last of its survivors."

Daryl was going to add a nod of agreement before wriggling under his covers until he was lying down again, when the blaring sound of crashing and hammering came from behind the door that his caretaker had always entered and exited through.

Nine shot up from the bed, running to the door and flinging it open then stopping in her tracks as her mouth fell open, taking a few steps back away from the window of her small house in the middle of nowhere.

"Oh… my… _god._"


	4. 4 - Lost Brothers

**A/N: My apologies for the wait on this chap. Just a warning, I'm a little weak at writing action scenes, but hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks again for all the follows, reviews and favorites. 3**

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Dry grass flattened under their feet as a group of 7 ran through a large field that separated Hershel's farm and the portentous forest.

The former sheriff deputy grabbed his sons arm to keep him from running strait to the little girl, and his wife did the same to the crying mother who fell to the ground, wanting to embrace her daughter more than anything else in the world.

"Sophia?!" Carl cried out, holding his breath and praying that she was still herself.

The tired child covered in dirt and blood gave on last look at her mother before sinking to the ground, tears pouring like rivers from her bloodshot eyes.

Carol gasped, crawling out from Lori's grasp and over to her little girl, throwing herself on top of her in a desperate hug.

Rick gave an unsure look to his fellow former deputy and to the dark skinned man, all three of them loosening their grip on their weapons.

"Are you sure she's safe?" The brunette woman knelt beside the sobbing elder, speaking softly. "We have to check her for bites."

Glenn nodded at Lori and the rest of the group circled around Sophia and Carol, carefully lifting up the worn out child. Shane held her in his arms as she sobbed on his shoulder, Carol next to him holding her hand with tears of her own soaking her face.

"Shane, Carol, take Sophia to the house. She needs to be cleaned up. Lori, Carl, go with 'em. Glenn n' T-Dog, we'll check around the outskirts of the woods, make sure there ain't any walkers nearby."

The little boy was about to request that he go with his father to inspect instead of following his mom until something clicked in his young mind. "Wait, dad, where is Daryl?"

* * *

When it plunged at her, she had no choice but to duck and move out of its way, unintentionally leading it into the room Daryl had been staying in.

But before the rotting body could get any closer to him or her, she yanked two costume swords that were mounted to the wall and forcefully drove them into its skull.

There was more. There were at least 20 others, lining her house, some of them making it into her home.

Daryl had a very slight expression of panic across his face, only because he was practically chained to a bed due to his ankle and now a stranger that happened to be a woman was left to defend him. Now Daryl wasn't sexist like his older brother, but If she was anything like the women in his group – girls who could manage to protect themselves, but couldn't possibly take on twenty-something walkers – she was screwed.

But Nine wasn't like any girl he had ever met before. Oh, no. Nine was vicious when she killed the dead. That sweetie he had seen 5 hours ago when she was tending to his wrist was long gone and Daryl thought for sure he would never see her again.

And with another strong jab at a corpse he heard the thud of two carcasses hitting the ground.

He couldn't just sit here, letting this stranger defend him. He didn't need her to. He told himself he could fight off these bastards on his own.

Nine had finally grabbed her actual weapon, kicking open her front door and slicing a cadaver's head down the middle.

While Daryl used his left hand to pull the sheets off of him and swing his legs off the side of the bed, her back smacked the ground, her legs kicking up and her machete helping her in a battle for her life.

He managed to stand up – with no pants or shirt on – and compress all his weight to his right foot, letting his left set of toes carefully land on the floor. His cross bow was sitting on a chair right next to a window and the expedition for his weapon had begun.

With a limp, he hobbled across the room, coming closer to the window to see a herd banging on the outside of the house below. He was on the second floor apparently, meaning they wouldn't be able to climb through when he lifted the glass up.

Now there were about 15 of them since Nine had taken out the ones trying to break into her residency. And up there was Daryl, struggling to use his crossbow. She didn't notice him though till an arrow had shot through the head of a walker standing only a foot away from her.

His left hand held the grip and his right arm supported the bow. His right hand was completely useless and since he never used his left hand to pull the trigger, his aim was a bit off so he made sure to shoot the walkers that weren't within 5 feet of the woman below.

Now there were only 3 left. One with only one arm, a large fat one and another one that looked like he visited the gym a lot in his time alive that may have been able to outrun Nine.

Without hesitation, Daryl struck an arrow through the quick one's head at the same time Nine gripped her machete with both hands and stuck the blade through the last twos heads at the same time.

She had no idea what had just happened.

To her surprise, her home – a house that actually wasn't technically hers – that had a sturdy wooden fence around it, was torn apart.

The walkers had knocked down half of the fence and now her front yard was completely vulnerable.

But luckily there weren't anymore corpses in sight. After reluctantly putting her guard down, she turned her head to look up at the window where her patient had helped her rid her home from lethal pests. Daryl had given a couple last looks through the woods from the 2 story window before disappearing out of her sight.

Nine knew what she needed to do. If that gate stayed in the state it was in now, there was a good chance her house would be attacked once again. She needed to at least patch it up temporarily, pick the posts back up and slide the logs in between then after resting for a short moment, she could nail the posts and replace the wood that had started to rot.

She wouldn't though. Not now. She wanted to go back inside, hurry up the stairs and make sure Daryl was okay. He was standing, moving his torso, using his right arm. _He must be in so much pain right now, what if he had collapsed up there?_ She thought.

Therefore, her sore legs carried her back into the cottage, her hands latching her machete to her belt.

He was slumped in the bed again, taking deep breaths but also continuing to move his left leg and stretch the muscles under his chest. It hurt, but he knew he could get used to the pain.

The door creaked open and her gray eyes wandered to his. Daryl wore his typical expression, but kept his eyes on her as well.

There was an odd tension lingering in the room between the two exhausted humans. They both had a different idea of why the invisible and inaudible tenseness was there, given that they were two different people with minds that wouldn't in sync easily.

"That's never happened before. This house has always been the safest place I've ever known."

Being a man of few words, he stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

She walked closer to him until she was sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, something Daryl was starting to get used to.

Her pigtails were unbalanced and loose and her forehead was glossed with a bit of sweat. Her red bandana that served as a headband was absent, for it had fallen off and she left it downstairs. Clothes unadjusted and ruffled, a tired look upon her face, her chest still heaving from breathlessness of the previous fight, she looked like a war veteran who had gotten their last taste of combat.

"If you'll allow me to, I think I should check your wounds. I noticed you don't like being touched or even being within close distance, but I want to help you heal."

He glimpsed at his wrist, the sting feeling like it was beyond repair.

"Yeah, take a look." He mumbled.

Without hesitation, Nine sat closer to him and examined his arm. Her eyes remained on his brake as she placed her fingertips under his lower tricep, her other hand under the bottom of his. She slowly lifted his arm onto her lap, positioning them sitting closer to each other than they had ever been before while he was conscious.

Daryl kept his gaze on her, genuinely starting to wonder who she was. This house, her appearance, her knowledge of his injuries - could there be more behind her than just a lonely survivor?

After she had removed his old bandage, she looked back up at him. "I'm going to apply a small amount of pressure to different areas on your arm. I need you to tell me where it hurts the most and where it doesn't hurt at all."

"Yes ma'am."

Nine smiled a little before bringing her focus back to his damaged arm. When she started using the pads of her fingers to lightly massage his palm, he kept quiet until she reached the first crease of his wrist and a sharp gasp went passed his lips.

His look of discomfort told her she was getting into the most harmed spot so she thought it was best to quick her fingers.

About 4 inches down his wrist, he showed no signs of pain anymore.

And when she was re-bandaging his sprain, he needed to break the silence before their encounter came to an end.

"That picture of you on the wall over there next to the window, the man next to you with scars on his face, he your husband?"

This question took her by surprise. And Nine was not one to be easily taken by surprise.

"He's not my husband. I've never been married. He's my brother." She smiled for a second, meeting Dixon's gaze as her voice softened. "And those scars… Well, not many people were fond of him. When he was a senior in high school, his class went on a trip to a zoo. I remember - he told me that no one was bothering him that day. No mean words, no bullying during the outing. He was happy… But like most things that seem too good to be true, it was. Because… His classmates purposely tripped him, and he fell into the lion habitat."

His eyes widened a little and thoughts of Merle entered his mind. Hearing some bastard hand cuffed him to a roof and left him there, shouting at the top of that building in Atlanta, thinking for sure his brother was no more. The pain of losing family.

He didn't care much for family. He never really had one. But he had Merle. Even though he wasn't around too often, Merle helped Daryl raise himself.

"I'm sorry…" Daryl whispered.

She bit her lip slightly, looking up at him. He didn't want that to be all he said or did on the subject matter though. She was trusting enough to tell him about a personal happening, kind enough to pick him up from the forest, take care of him at home, he wanted to thank her.

Carefully he leaned up a little and turned his body in her direction. His right arm shyly ghosted over her back before landing just under her shoulders.

Nine allowed herself to rest her head in the crook of his neck, returning the awkward and surprising hug.

To say the contact was only pleasant would be an understatement for her. Once again her heart raced, adoring the touch of another. Alone for so long, losing herself in a vacant life, saddened by loneliness, and now it was finally beginning to go away.


	5. 5 - Photographs

**A/N: Sorry again for the wait. Here's a warning though, exams are coming up and the school year is almost ending so I'm crammed with work. But I'll try to keep updating every 12 days or so, whenever I can at least. I love the praise, but I especially love when I get reviews stating what they'd like to see or what they're looking forward to in chapters to come. Thank you all for your support!**

* * *

The next two days had been way too boring.

Nine didn't bother him much because either she was busy fixing the fence – replacing the wood and adding barbed wire around the entire perimeter – or she was absent from his room.

After he had figured out where the bathroom was located, she showed him the easiest way to successfully take a shower without ruining the bandages on his injuries or making them worse. That was an interesting experience. Then after that he finally got to be fully clothed for the first time in 3 days. His clothes were washed too and he had to admit to himself that the feeling of being clean and living in a clean house with decent food was amazing.

But other then check-in's and providing what he needed throughout the day in order to make healing easier for him, she wasn't around much.

It wasn't that bad. Daryl liked being alone, he was even used to it. But that's when he had something useful to do. Like hunting or searching, or sharpening knives and arrows. Being alone in a room all day waiting for the ridiculously slow process of his wrist, ankle and the muscle tissue near his rib cage to heal was frustrating. Because Daryl was the kind of person that always needed to put himself to work in any possible way.

So when Nine was grooming and feeding her black stallion, he took the chance to scope out where he would be staying for the next month.

The top floor wasn't as large as he thought it would be. There was a hallway and 4 rooms including the bathroom and the spare bedroom he was using.

With the limp he had become used to slowing him down, he walked through the hallway, glancing down the stares and pausing for a moment to make sure she wasn't actually downstairs.

The house wasn't a place you'd expect a typical woman to live in. It was only a house of course, but there weren't frilly curtains or random odds and ends placed on shelves and tables, no pastel colored walls and nothing really matched. He didn't care; in fact he kind of liked it. Made it feel less like this lady was babysitting him and more like she was just kindly helping him.

Another thing unusual about this woman's house is that there seemed to be a lot of collector's items. Framed James Bond movie posters, The Matrix trilogy deluxe box set, and plenty of replicas of iconic film items. Daryl expected to open a door and find the wardrobe that could lead him to Narnia.

But instead he found a small library. The largest bookcase was stocked with books like "Guide to Edible Plant Life" and "Medicinal Plants in North America" along with titles about nuclear bomb explosion affects and at least 20 large informative encyclopedias on extensive first aid.

Another bookcase was full of fiction, mainly action and adventure. The top half of that same bookcase had rows of DVD's and VCR tapes with more geeky movies like the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Back to the Future.

There was also a desk in the dusty, dimly lit room. It was made of very old wood and so was the chair in front of it that looked like it would fall to pieces if someone sat in it.

But on the desk, behind a small stack of books and papers, there were four picture frames.

One frame showcased a groom and a bride in front of an alter with happy expressions. The bride was very pretty but unfamiliar and Daryl recognized the groom to be Nine's brother, judging by the likeliness of this photo and the one on the wall in the guest room.

Another frame had a partly faded picture of a young girl who looked to be about 10 years old. She had short, light brown hair and bangs so long they almost covered her pale gray eyes. The next picture had the same little girl in it, but now she looked a few years older and she was sitting next to the scarred man, while another very young boy and girl sat on his lap.

But the last picture featured someone Daryl knew by now. A teenager sitting outdoors, holding a butterfly in her palm and bearing a smile so bright it could light a cave. That girl was Nine, and she was the same little girl in the two previous pictures as well.

His eyes scanned the vintage family memories in front of him, smiling a little to himself. He had seen other pictures lately, ones of strangers that hung on the walls in abandoned houses he had to scavenge for food and supplies. But those were strangers; he didn't know anything about them at all. These pictures on this desk put details into a story about someone's life that Daryl was craving to unravel.

"So does photography interest you?"

Her voice startled him, causing him to whip his head around, staring at her as she leaned against the open door with her arms crossed and her usual smirk.

"Nah…" He took a few steps away from the desk, keeping his eyes on her. "I was…"

"Curious?" She smiled more after finishing his sentence, walking to the spot where he was just a second ago.

"Yeah…" He stood next to her.

"Did you figure it out?" Her finger pointed to the picture of the teen, then to the picture of the child.

"That's you."

"Yep. And those other two kids, sitting with my brother and I are my half siblings, Susie and Peter."

"What happened to them?" His gaze focused on her more than it did on the photos.

She sighed, chewing on her lip for a moment. "I don't know. After this… infection thing happened, I went to their houses, searched everywhere they might have been. Couldn't find them." Her hardly noticeable frown turned back into a soft smile after she directed her attention back to him. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Had a brother. Name was Merle."

"Had?"

"Rick - the leader of my group handcuffed him to the roof of a building. Said he was dangerous. We went back to find him but… All that was there was a trail of blood, a rusty saw and his left hand." Daryl wrapped his own arm around himself absentmindedly. He would never admit it to anyone including himself but he felt a sense of relief now that he had told someone about it.

"That's a shame. Do you think he's still alive?"

"Merle's the toughest man I know, I'd like to believe so. But alone, one handed, how far can a man possibly get?"

Nine nodded a little and glanced back at the desk.

"And him? Scarface, yeah, couldn't find him either?" He asked, referring to the oldest in the family picture.

"That's… Gabriel." She chuckled. "…I'm not sure where he went. When I arrived in Georgia about a month ago, he wasn't here. He left a short note, explaining that he packed up and decided to travel but that's all I know."

"You mean this is his house?"

"Yeah. 20 years ago he bought land down here, built himself a house and lived here with his wife. She died a couple years later from cancer… and that basically ruined him for everyone else. He wanted a life of isolation, so the brute stayed here, 20 miles from civilization. And he was a survival fanatic. The entire basement and the room next door are filled with gear, supplies and nutrition resources."

Daryl's eyes widened a bit. "That's insane. A damn good thing though. Did the man even know what he was doin' leavin' here?"

"If he wasn't out of his mind, then yes. But he only talked to other people besides me less than twice a month if he could get away with it. So… He might have just lost it."

The muffled but loud sound of the horse's whinnies stopped the conversation, sending Nine across the room to glance out of the small window before darting out of the library and down the stairs.

Since he could hardly walk, he reluctantly stayed in the house, watching out the dusty study window as the woman outside swung her large blade around a few times before slaying the walking undead in front of her that tried to get over the fence and to her horse, thus frightening the horse.

But there so many more questions, so many things he wanted to know about her. A whole list of them, 30 at least. He had never felt so nosy in his life, coming from a guy who now had to search through deserted houses in attempts to find supplies to use for survival.

She finished off the zombie and the other one that had followed it with what seemed like advanced expertise, but she remained standing there in front of the bodies, staring out into the forest that they traveled from. After a few minutes, she turned around slowly and entered through the fence, her Frisian trotting over to her with some hay tucked into his mouth.

Nine stroked the black beauties nose, grinning at it. Her eyes soon looked up to the window Daryl had been looking through to see him staring back down at her with a faint smile.

* * *

"Is there nothing else we can do to stop the swelling?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. We've already given her a high dose of acetaminophen to stop the pain, but there's nothing else we can do except let fate take its toll." The retired vet held his hands in front of him, delivering bad news to a sobbing mother.

Carol grasped her daughter's frail hand as Lori stood behind her with a supporting arm around her shoulder. The child had finally awakened after 30 hours of much needed sleep.

"When will she heal?" The brunette woman asked quietly.

"It's hard to say. Usually a poison ivy rash only lasts ten to twenty days, but she ingested the plant and now the oil has spread through her body because of the moisture."

Patricia and Maggie finished cleaning rest of the mud and dirt off of the little girls skin as well as they could until Sophia was strong enough again to walk, and able to take a shower or bath. She had to stay in the clothes they had found her in or else the force of the inside of her skin to her internal organs and bloodstream could knock her out permanently.

Rick, Glenn and T-Dog soon entered the room and Rick took his spot next to his wife, as he usually did when they were close to each other.

"Can't find Daryl." T-Dog mumbled, looking at Sophia with concerned eyes.

"Found an arrow in a walker about 2 miles out, but no other signs." Glenn looked over at Maggie, who had been looking at him in return.

"We're going to need more supplies. Calamine lotion, hydrocortisone cream and any other pain killers or muscle strengtheners, we should look for them." The farmer's eldest daughter threw the dirty rags used to clean the child in a bin that Beth carried away along with other things that needed to be washed.

"I'll go with Maggie to get the supplies." He placed his signature ball cap back on his head, ready to head back out.

Hershel gave a nod and Lori pulled Glenn aside for a few minutes before they took off, mounting their horses and setting out to find much needed items for the young girl whose life was once again very much in danger.


	6. 6 - Hello Again

**A/N: I wish I could have finished this sooner. School is out though and I'll be able to update more now. I could really use a review to let me know whether or not this story is doing good, and thanks again for all the follows and favorites! **

* * *

The next two weeks of Daryl's life passed by quicker than any other said set of days he could remember.

Although they were some of the most pleasant weeks he had lived in a very long time, they weren't the easiest.

But they flew, _oh_ how fast they _flew..._ It felt more like a dream.

_"Boring, just carrying heavy shit from truck to building, over and over… Nothing changed except the shipments and the places. Gotta have a job though, well used to. Today's jobs are just stayin' alive and keeping others safe." _

_"I miss my job. I miss the university I went to also." Nine frowned briefly as she searched through an almost empty drugstore isle, looking for anything edible, useful or needed. _

_"Why? I knew you musta' been the working type, but…" Daryl couldn't find the words to complete his sentence. This happened often, becoming speechless when he was talking to her. He continued looking for any possible thing to use as an arrow but also keeping an eye on the place for sudden walkers, although Nine had said there weren't any, he just wanted a chance to help keep her safe, the way she had done for him since they met. Even with a snapped wrist and sore ankle, he felt like he had to repay her in some way, through little things. _

_"I worked at an orphanage. Almost owned it too. It was the old fashioned kind, just a large house where children could live until someone made them their own. Humble, but I never knew a kid who disliked it, even though they all wanted a family to take them home." She smiled to herself, thinking about the memories she had of the innocent youth she used to have the pleasure of caring for. _

_Daryl had never thought much of kids. Hell, it wasn't until he found himself sticking with Rick's group that he even knew any. But when Carol lost Sophia, he knew being a parent or a caregiver wasn't your average day job. The pain on Carol's face when separated from her little girl told him that. _

_"Guess it beats loading and unloading boxes all day." He smiled his infamous playful smirk. "You like kids a lot then? Ya stand to spend every day around em', how'd you manage?" Besides Sophia, Carl was the only other child Daryl had been around since he was a kid himself. But judging by watching Rick and Lori raise their son, taking care of young ones was hardly easy._

_"I love them! They see things differently, you know? You look into the mind of a little kid, you see a beautiful and innocent place. Doesn't even matter what they have been through, it's always a work of art. You don't see the same thing when you look through the eyes of an adult. That's the best part of it." She paused for a moment to pull off her bandanna and untie it before wrapping it around her neck again and returning it to it's position of being a headband for her choppy, loose hair. _

_"Had any of your own?" Daryl's question meant no harm, but he could tell something wasn't right after he asked her it. _

_"I can't."_

The more time they spent together, the more they talked. And the more they talked, the more they learned about each other.

_"I didn't know my mom very well, she wasn't around often. She and my dad divorced when I was 2 and she remarried when I was 4. Brought a stepbrother and stepsister into the picture then disappeared. I didn't see her again after that. Never met my stepdad either." _

_"I'm sorry." His hands gripped the cup in front of him, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was starting to get used to this, having meaningful conversations about pasts that he couldn't decide whether or not were important now. Nine told him things, stuff that he didn't think she would have told a stranger she only met 2 weeks ago. He told her things too, but it was hard for him. Growing up thinking he was just piece of redneck trash with nothing but an older drug addicted brother who spent more time in prison than with him, he felt like what he had to say about his life had no meaning to anyone else. But if this girl was willing to share hers with him, he found it the right thing to do when sharing his with her. _

_"I'm fine. She was a practical stranger, so I didn't feel much of a loss in the first place." Her red lips braced her own cup, allowing her to take a quick sip of the tea she had grown herself then brewed for her and her new companion. "But enough about me. Care to spill your guts, Big Mouth?" Nine chuckled at the ironic nickname she gave him. _

_He quirks his eyebrows and looked at her. "Spill my guts? Ain't that the last thing I wanna be doin' right now?" Daryl wouldn't admit it, but her words made him laugh more often than not – even if the chuckles sometimes didn't leave his head. "My mother was a druggie, neglectful, yelled a lot. Her poker winnings were usually the only income the family got. Always seemed to favor Merle over me, since he was her first born and I was unwanted. I was about 5 when she died. Set the house on fire when she passed out holding a cigarette. Dad was at the pub, Merle was behind bars. I was out riding my bike when it happened."_

_His eyes turned to the floor, the visions flashing through his mind. When he started talking, it seemed like the record player in the background of Nine's living room playing Girl From The North Country by Johnny Cash had quieted down, the sound of Daryl's voice gradually sharing more pieces of his life with his first real, trustworthy friend. _

_She waited for a moment to think of what exactly to say before speaking again. "I'm sorry, Daryl…" The way she said his name, it never sounded like a scowl or a remark. It sounded friendly. It sounded like no other person could have said it the same way. "Maybe you already knew this, but - no matter what happened in the past… You are important, no matter your bruises. …You deserve to be loved."_

_He didn't know that._

When their verbal relationship became more intimate, both of them craved for something more out of it. But Daryl was inexperienced and shy, and Nine was having trouble seeing the signs of Daryl's budding crush on her. He found himself forgetting what it felt like to be alone every second. He spent hours of the day with her, his wrist always bandaged and propped up to comfortably heal and his ankle that had healed enough for him to be able to walk, talking to her about anything he wanted. It had taken 3 weeks but now he could finally understand that someone actually cared about him.

_"This place is a survival goldmine." His southern enunciation seemed to fade a bit sometimes when he was around her. He didn't realize it either, but his actions were different when he was near her too. He took more showers often, used the manners his granny taught him when he was young, and observed the girl with a heart that he thought must have been made of pure gold and crafted by an angel. Daryl became the man his brother had always told him to never be, and that wasn't a bad thing. _

_"I know. Gabriel hated the "outside world," as he called it. You can see why I made my way out of Ohio and down here. Besides the minor fence problem, this house is probably safer than the fuckin' White House."_

_That was new. He had never heard her swear like that before. It made him slyly smile, looking over at her as they searched through the contents of the filled basement, finding things to bring back upstairs and restock with. _

_"Been meaning to ask this, why's your hair green?"_

_Nine smiled softly and chuckled. "While making my way down from Cincinnati, I came across a quite beautiful pond. The water was nearly clear as bottled water and I was tense and sweaty. Since the area had minimal openings, I had a good feeling I would be safe for at least a little while. So I went for a quick swim. Then when I got out of the pond and my hair dried, I continued on my route to Georgia and managed to find my reflection and see my brown hair turned green." _

_Daryl didn't say anything. He just looked at her the way he always looked at her. With a curious and confused stare, partially annoyed by the unfamiliar feelings he was developing and partially wishing he'd never have to go back to Hershel's farm and instead stay with Nine, eagerly listening to all she had to say and hesitantly allowing himself to share with her all he had trapped inside of him. _

_But then he found the only words he could think of to say and they shyly fell from his lips in the truest of ways. "You… y' don't look bad…" _

_And as Nine tucked a few strands of mossy-green-brown hair behind her ear, eyes locked to the ground when a long awaited blush tinted the dry skin of her cheeks, Daryl's stomach twisted and he honestly pondered letting this girl into his heart._

He didn't get the chance to provide safety and care to other people until the apocalypse happened and he started following Rick's group, helping to support the other survivors and attempt to keep them alive as long as he and the others could. And throughout his life, there weren't many people that did what he had now adapted to doing. Mother wasn't around much, father was terrible when he _was_ around, so was brother, and grandma died when he was about 14. No uncle, no cousins, no aunts or close friends. Growing up, it was just Daryl and Merle, when Merle wasn't stuck in jail or ditching his younger brother for drugs and women.

The emotional part wasn't easy though. He was starting to catch on - knew when someone needed to be comforted, managed to hold important personal conversations with others, started to take into account people's feelings before making decisions. He wasn't some heartless robot with only the knowledge to simply fight, hunt and live. It just didn't happen to be his "specialty." He was still learning that part of being in a family.

But the action came naturally to Daryl. He had hardly experienced it himself and yet he knew how to properly protect a person. The physical part was easy for him, not only was he able to keep himself alive, but he also knew how to keep others alive, even if he was the only one doing so. And it was important too. He wouldn't let one of his own go unarmed or hungry. It became a need; he developed the need to protect his loved ones.

And that's what he did.

_"Daryl, are you sure? It won't be easy going that far when you can't move one of your wrists."_

_"I'm comin', Nine. I can't let you go there alone. I know you can keep y'self safe, but if somethin happens I need t'be there, the way you've been here for me." _

_She nodded appreciatively then continued to place the thick metal strips along the inside of the windows and doors, locking every single lock in the entire house. _

_As he helped her attach the things they packed for the trip to the horse's saddle and lap bags, Nine found a clip and a hook for Daryl to use when connecting his crossbow to the side of the saddle. _

_It took about 3 hours for them to get there. Their destination was an old hospital, and their mission was to get more medical supplies. The stock at Gabriel's house had shortened quickly and dramatically, along with the medicine cabinet that increasingly became emptier. _

_The night before had been a rough one for Nine and she didn't get a lot of sleep. So Daryl led the horse most of the way there with little direction from Nine as she sat behind him on the saddle and rested her head on his shoulder. _

_They managed to find nearly half of what they needed, but it was dark now and they planned to sleep the night at the hospital. _

_And after blocking every entrance and finding a large enough room inside for the black Friesian to spend the next 10 hours in, they found a somewhat clean room and laid their sleeping bags on top of two mattresses left on the floor across the room from each other. _

_Nine removed her vest and boots, leaving her in denim shorts and a tank top. Daryl stayed fully clothed but kicked off his own shoes as well. They stiffly got into their sleeping bags, 10 feet across from each other and the only light being what the large window allowed the full moon to shine through. _

_For a few minutes, they lied there, staring at the ceiling or the walls. Both minds thinking about current events, waiting for when their eyes would close for good and their bodies would put themselves to rest. _

_Until Nine gave in to temptation and slid out of her sleeping bag. _

_She quietly tiptoed across the room, unzipping the bag and carrying it with her to where Daryl used his as a blanket, lying on his back with an arm behind his head and the sprained one rested by his side. _

_He knew she was over there – and his chest wouldn't stop thumping. He felt the shifting of the bed, the covers being moved a bit, but when he felt the warmth of her body against his, he had no choice but to let his own body respond without his mind holding him back._

_With his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his arm wrapped around her and his figure turned toward her as his lips softly touched hers._

_And her lips gave in, enclosing his bottom one as they ended the night with a declaration of pure trust to each other._

* * *

And it all built up to this.

The morning sun evaporated the dew that sat on leafs and blades of grass, returning Georgia to it's usual dry state.

He knew he needed to let the group know that he was safe and what happened after he blacked out but part of him thought it wasn't worth it. They probably didn't care and he wanted to stay with Nine anyway.

But Nine insisted that he should at least let them know that he is okay and she felt that it was only right for her to bring some supplies for Rick's group to keep.

Now they were walking up to the aging farm house, Nine's steed tied to the railing on the porch and her hand on her machete handle just in case.

No one was outside on the farmland. There were tents set up and an RV parked nearby them. The place was one of the loveliest Nine had seen since the dead started coming back to the living.

Daryl gave the door a hard knock before opening it slowly, peeking inside with a gun in hand to check for walkers. The house didn't look any different than it did the last time Dixon had been inside it, so he dubbed it safe.

They walked inside, shutting the door behind them and when they walked into the living room, the entire gang was standing around it, all of their eyes now set on the stranger and the person they thought was lost forever.

Carol quietly whispered "oh my god" and that waved the checkered flag for the other survivors to stand up and quickly approach the couple with questions and regards.

"We didn't think we would ever see you again." Rick placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, looking at him sincerely.

"Were you guys bit? Are you alright?" Glenn spoke up.

"We're fine, no bites." Nine looked at the faces of every other person in the room, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her.

"I fell into a ravine and got knocked out when I was looking for Sophia. This is Nine," he pointed to his savior who looked over at him. "She found me and took me to her house, bandaged me, fed me, healed me, kept me safe till I could walk again. Broke my right wrist and twisted my right ankle."

Their eyes all went back to the new girl, staring at her with looks of gratefulness.

"Thank you." Rick moved his hand from Daryl's shoulder to hers. "You saved a member of our group. You have our gratitude."

"It was nothing. I was happy to help."

He smiled at her but soon turned back to the crowd in the room waiting for the answer to a different problem.

Andrea looked around. "So what are we going to do about Randall?"


	7. 7 - Something To Tell

**A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter took forever for me to publish. I recently just haven't been in the mood to write for this fandom. Hopefully before season 4 starts, I'll be able to post more chapters and get a little further caught up with the show. Thank you so much for sticking with this fic!**

* * *

"What happened to Sophia? Did you find her? Look," Daryl pulled out the doll he found next to the ravine and stuck it out for the group to see. "I found her doll."

Carol smiled and gently took the doll from him. "Yes, she found us." Her eyes started to water.

Hershel spoke up. "But she is in critical condition still. We're not sure if she'll ever heal up right."

Daryl nodded at Hershel before giving Carol a caring hug.

Nine looked around, still slightly confused about everything. "Who is Randall?" She asked Rick.

Rick absentmindedly wiped his nose with the back of his hand before looking back at the new girl. "For lack of a better explanation... He's a hostage we're holding in the small barn outside."

"...Why are you holding a hostage...?"

"Maybe we should talk about this later." Glenn said, still standing next to Maggie.

* * *

"Thank you for the supplies. We really appreciate it."

"No problem, Rick. Happy to help." Nine smiled at the person she could now consider a new friend.

She walked up to the farmhouse where Lori was sitting on the porch, leaving Daryl and Rick behind to get into detail about what happened during the weeks that Nine and Daryl had spent together.

Lori looked down at her stomach although there was no sign yet of a child being bared. She feared that all she would be able to see when she looked into her baby's eyes would be regret after foolish regret. How could she not fear that? The child conceived most likely belonged to her husbands best friend. For so long she knew Shane and to think it all came to this. And what if Rick didn't mean what he said? What if he too won't be able to love the son or daughter like his own? It stressed her out so badly. Lori wished all of this was just a terribly long, horrendous dream that she would wake up from any second now.

Nine approached her and took a seat in the rocking chair next to the fellow woman.

Lori looked up and tried to cover the emotions behind her eyes. She smiled faintly and cleared her throat. "Hi."

"Hello. How are you?" Nine smiled back.

"Fine, thank you."

"Really?" The pigtailed girl replied. "Your voice would suggest otherwise."

Lori stared at her, unsure.

"I know a look of pain when I see one, mrs."

Lori paused, looked down for a moment before looking back at the woman who was just a stranger to her only an hour ago. "Yes, I am troubled..."

"With what, may I ask?"

"I'm pregnant."

Nine's being lit up with wonder and excitement. "You are? Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

Lori was a bit confused, for she didn't know why Nine would think such a situation would be one to be happy about in a time where you can't get even a minute of peace without fear for your life being taken by a zombie.

"How far along are you? Do you have any names picked out? This must be such a blessing." Nine grinned, but after seeing the odd look Lori was giving her, she slowly came to realization that Lori wasn't exactly as excited about this as she was. "Oh, I'm, um, sorry... I shouldn't be so nosey. It's none of my business, really."

"No, it's fine. I'm just worried. Scared, you know." Lori rubbed the inside of her arm absentmindedly, trying to smile.

Daryl stepped up onto the porch and looked at Nine. "Everything alright here?" He asked.

"Yes, we were just talking." Lori replied.

Nine nodded and stood. "It was lovely having a word with you, Mrs. Grimes."

"You too."

Daryl went over and took Nines hand as they walked down and off the porch together. He intended to lead her to an area where they could have a private conversation, even though privacy wasn't the easiest thing to get these days.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing." He shyly wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Okay..." Nine looked at him, a bit confused.

"There's something I want to tell you. I've never told anyone this before." He said.

"Go ahead then."

Daryl took both her hands in his now, their fingers interlocking together perfectly. After looking into her gray, ghosty eyes, he gently kissed her lips for a moment before confessing with all sincerity. "...I love you..."

"Oh Daryl..." Nine gasped quietly and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him again, harder this time with passion as his arms wrapped around her waist and held her close to him.

Their kiss stayed strong for as long as they could hold their breaths.

"I love you too." Nine whispered.


	8. 8 - To Think

**A/N: I know it's short, but I finally got in the mood to write again. I'd really like to get this story caught up to the show so that I can write along when season 4 starts, but I don't know if that'll happen. Hope you all enjoy! Make sure to write a review if you like!**

* * *

The day was unusually chill for being a late August noon in Georgia. The dewdrops on the plants hadn't even dried up yet. It was as if the sun had taken a vacation.

Nine decided that morning to take a horseback ride along the outskirts of the farm. She intended on going out for a run at first, but Daryl made it known that he would rather not go without him, since he wanted to help.

This way, Nine could have some time to herself to think, and the people of the farm could have some time to discuss what to do with their hostage.

But Nine was worried. What if these people asked her to leave? What about Daryl? She thought. I can't lose him.

After a few hours, the sun started to heat the earth a little more, and Nine had done all the deep thinking her mind would allow her to do without worrying herself sick.

She dismounted her horse and stuck a carrot in front of its mouth. The black friesian was delighted, and ate it right up. Nine walked up to the farmhouse where everyone stood inside, talking about the topic of the week. She stood against the wall, listening to their muffled voices. It was so quiet outside that she could nearly make out what they were saying.

Inside, Dale was on the verge of panic. "You can't do this!" He shouted.

"And what else are we gonna do? Leave this punk here on the farm around Carol and Sophia? Maggie and Beth? You know what kind a group he's from! None of us are safe if he's here!" Daryl shouted back.

"I can't believe this." Dale muttered.

Nine wished she knew the full story. Since she just arrived, she had no idea who Randall even was or where he came from. All she knew was that he seemed to be a real problem for this group.

"Isn't there another way?" Dale pleaded.

Rick spoke up. "I know what we'll do. Shane and I, we'll drive him out, 20, 18 miles or so and leave him with a little bit of supplies."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Andrea asked.

Shane, although he wished Rick would just off Randall's head instead of going through all this trouble, crossed his arms. "He's not staying here. We need to remove him as soon as possible."

Rick nodded once. "Then it's decided."

* * *

Later that day, Nine found a tree that was easily climbable, and she took the opportunity to indulge in one of her favorite childhood pastimes.

Daryl found her though, since she took her black stallion almost everywhere with her. He approached the tree she was sitting in and looked up at her.

She looked back down at him, smiling faintly.

"See any walkers up there?" He asked, half-joking.

"Luckily, no." She climbed down a few branches before swinging on one and jumping down to the ground.

She stood in front of him, looking into his light blue eyes. He nervously shuffled his feet a bit, looking from the ground back to her.

"I don't think they like me very much." Nine said softly.

"Why d'ya say that?"

"I kinda... made a fool of myself when I was talking to the Sheriff's wife." She absentmindedly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I got a little too excited when she mentioned being pregnant." Nine sighed.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it. They all oughtta welcome you. You saved my life." Daryl's words put a smile of her face. "Later, we'll go out on that run together. But Rick needs me right now, I gotta move."

Nine nodded. Daryl smiled shyly and turned, walking away.

"Daryl, wait!" She called after him, running to his side. He turned back to her.

"Yeah?"

"What if... What if they ask me to leave?"

He paused, looking at her. "Then I'll leave too."


End file.
